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Post by mrsonde on Feb 26, 2019 0:50:02 GMT 1
Ever since I was a young child, I've always felt I should have been born with the ability to fly. I've dreamt of it, often. Not necessarily like Superman or alancalvard - just, like, I ought to have had wings. I don't know what happened to my wings. I think I was born in the wrong body. My doctor tells me that corrective surgery is not available on the NHS, but if I wait long enough I might qualify for assistance for my mental health problems. I don't see why I should have to wait, and suffer in this way. I was bullied at school, for harmless simple natural things like walking like a dummock - I believe I was meant to be a dummock - sporadically pecking at the ground, and trying to take off from the playground. People think I shouldn't be able to fly - I can see them thinking it, even the ones who say they vote Labour and support the Palestinians - but why should I have to accept other people's judgement about what I can and can not be? Why should I have to pervert my natural instincts to conform to what an outdated bigoted society deems is my proper species, when I know I would be much happier as the dummock I was meant to be? I was born a bird, just in the wrong body - some petty official in the reincarnation bureau made a clerical error, that's all. There are surgeons in Thailand and Indonesia and the Philippines and even Romania, and of course the US, who are willing and able to help me, but it costs more than I can afford on my estate agent's meagre commission. Please help my fight for corrective species reassignment on the NHS. It's not about cock. They can't even fly.
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Post by shysteretcie on Feb 26, 2019 3:09:19 GMT 1
I think mrsonde meant to say dunnock, n'est-ce pas?
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 26, 2019 3:11:46 GMT 1
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Post by alancalverd on Feb 27, 2019 0:00:50 GMT 1
So I looked up the definition of a dummock like you said and it says "ass". But donkeys can't fly. Even a horsefly is not really a horse. Except Pegasus of course.
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Post by aquacultured on Feb 27, 2019 1:16:14 GMT 1
Leave my Devon donkeys out of it, please.
They've been in donkey heaven for weeks, out of view of the nasty people who think they're not human.
Let them bathe in sunlight (D stands for donk) for a while more before I have to scare the shit out of them.
And don't tell them they can change their orientation at will. That means I'll have to get off and push, and that's when the shit starts, for real.
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 27, 2019 13:56:03 GMT 1
So I looked up the definition of a dummock like you said and it says "ass". But donkeys can't fly. Even a horsefly is not really a horse. Except Pegasus of course. Oi vey. Everyone a critic. I suppose you make the common prurient mistake of stuffing a turkey up its neck cavity? Amateur. My truth, I said. My truth, goddammit, you rude unwoke motherf*#ckers. |
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 27, 2019 14:12:34 GMT 1
Welcome back, Aqua. I suppose you've been overwintering in the Maldives or something, courtesy of my gladly given grateful tax contributions? I hope you had a lovely time - good to see you back in time to suffer the Brexit fiasco with the rest of us. Your lot have done a superb job for your country, haven't you, making our exit so smooth, easy, and successful? The Queen should establish a new Chivalrous Order for you all. The Order of the Privy, something like that.
Anyway, we've missed you. I have anyway - like, remember when Tom Brown was in the infirmary after someone had mysteriously broken both his legs on the rugby field, and Flashman got all moony? Like that.*
* Tom Brown and Flashman were characters in a Cmid-19th English novel, later plagiarised by Charles Dickens - ed
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Post by shysteretcie on Feb 27, 2019 14:18:56 GMT 1
I think mrsonde meant to say prudish, n'est-ce pas mes amis?
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 27, 2019 14:20:49 GMT 1
You haven't seen what alancalverd does to a turkey, you dumb f*#k.
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 27, 2019 14:41:24 GMT 1
Talking of chickens (why wasn't he in the war, like James Stewart - or, better yet, Glenn Miller?), donkeys, and ham, I see there's a 1943 film on telly starring Laurence Olivier I've never seen before. Jeez - could that man actually act? At all? I don't see it.
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Post by shysteretcie on Feb 27, 2019 14:46:16 GMT 1
I think mrsonde meant to say turkeys, n'est-ce pas?
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 27, 2019 14:48:03 GMT 1
Frenchmen, actually.
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Post by aquacultured on Feb 28, 2019 2:06:03 GMT 1
Welcome back, Aqua. I suppose you've been overwintering in the Maldives or something, courtesy of my gladly given grateful tax contributions? But what would've come of my DDs if I'd gone away? And for me it'd just've been shit, shit, shit when I came back. Who wants that, except your enema/ies? I'd be grateful if you'd send me your tax contributions direct in future, as I resigned in disgrace, and was consigned to deepest Devon, which I hate with a vengeance. I can of course follow your 19C novelistic references and can go back centuries before. As you've admitted you hate poetry, I'll search out the most discombobulating examples for one of out next trysts, and award you a butt of sack if you win. Schnuck. |
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Post by mrsonde on Feb 28, 2019 18:58:12 GMT 1
Welcome back, Aqua. I suppose you've been overwintering in the Maldives or something, courtesy of my gladly given grateful tax contributions? But what would've come of my DDs if I'd gone away? And for me it'd just've been shit, shit, shit when I came back. Who wants that, except your enema/ies? I'd be grateful if you'd send me your tax contributions direct in future, as I resigned in disgrace Yes, I remember you claiming you'd done some work there before. Wrote a report on the train or something, wasn't it? Went somewhere on one, anyway. You should have learned from your donkeys - keep your head down and buttocks clenched at all times. Racist. I was worried it was a bit late for you, not in French, and not in poesy. Poets, really, for churning out the stuff. And for not committing suicide often enough. Win? What - you mean, if I manage to read it to the end? You're a harsh mistress, sir. |
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Post by alancalverd on Mar 1, 2019 16:38:14 GMT 1
The problem with stuffing a turkey up the arse is that you end up with a flat-chested raw lump of salmonella and campylobacter if you cook by time, and if you put a thermometer in its breast the legs will have shrivelled to nothing by the time the rest is safe to eat. A judicious application of lemon and parsley stuffing (why don't supermarkets sell anything other than sage and onion these days?) to the neck cavity, and cooking the bird breast-down for the first hour, can produce something approaching edibility without the risk of familicide. The whole point of Thanksgiving is to allow the family to recover in time for Christmas.
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